


On Dit

by parabolica (orphan_account)



Category: Regency Solitaire
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5231138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/parabolica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Gossips, Caroline and Georgiana, meet at the theatre to discuss the latest news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Dit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirin/gifts).



The usual crush attended the theatre this evening. Caroline adjusted the bow beneath the bodice of her sky-blue gown—such a divine touch! Madame Delacroix had done wonders, despite the fact that her execrable French with its West Country accent betrayed her origins—and flipped open the silk fan dyed the same shade. A matching ribbon threaded through her guinea-gold hair, piled up high in soft rolls for the occasion.

Rumour had it that the Prince Regent himself would put in an appearance tonight, but Caroline doubted it. Her sources amongst the Carlton House set assured her that the Prince and his cronies were anticipating a more vulgar form of entertainment this evening in Vauxhall Gardens.

She fluttered her fan, wafting a few artfully stray curls from her neck. Perhaps later, she and Georgie could go incognito to the Gardens—cloaked and masked, of course—to see what manner of diversions could be found there.

On the subject of Georgiana, where was she? Caroline plied the fan faster and took a turn about the foyer. A number of gentlemen paused to cast admiring glances her way. She ignored them without giving the cut indirect, and sidestepped those who attempted to approach her.

Oh, it was very vexing! Georgie was always late. Even at the exclusive school for young ladies they’d attended in Bath, Georgiana was forever breezing in halfway through a lesson. She got away with it every time, for none of the teachers wanted to remonstrate with the daughter of a marquess.

Ah, there she was now, throwing off her chaperone and the cluster of suitors that followed her almost everywhere. Her sea-green gown trimmed with gold ribbon moulded to her figure as she hurried through the press of theatre-goers. A young man, one of numerous hopefuls for her hand, stepped into her path and thrust a scroll towards her. Without breaking stride, Georgiana took it and continued on.

“Caro, my dear, I am sorry to be late! Papa wanted me to accept Lord Stonnall’s invitation to his box, but I told him I was engaged to meet with you this evening. I do wish he would stop trying to encourage me towards the right kind of man. I declare, I will choose a husband in my own good time.”

Caroline hid a smile as they embraced. Georgiana had been defying her father’s wishes since she first learned to walk, and though the marquess was often vocal in his anxieties for his daughter’s future happiness—Georgie had six full Seasons and fifteen proposals behind her—he would never force her to make a match against her will.

“What is this message Mr Sanderson has given me?” Georgiana plucked the red ribbon from the scroll and opened it, holding it so Caroline could read with her. “ _Goddess of the moonlight, your arrows hath taken aim at my heart_... Good gracious, what a terrible poem. Is he really comparing me to Diana—again?” 

Amused, Caroline surveyed her friend. In that Grecian-style dress and with her rich brown hair fastened with a golden fillet, she looked every inch comparable to the goddess of the hunt.

Georgiana rolled the scroll back up and tucked it into her reticule. “La! I do declare it is so tiresome always to be likened to Diana.”

“Perhaps your suitors have heard the rumours of your prowess in the saddle.” Caroline’s smile was a trifle wicked as Georgiana sputtered in mock offence. “You _are_ a bruising rider, Georgie. And you refuse to ride side-saddle, which seems to excite a certain kind of admiration amongst the gentlemen.”

Georgiana rolled her eyes. “If _that_ is what they admire in a woman, I wonder that they do not write tedious poetry comparing me to Venus.”

“Diana is the virgin huntress, my dear. You _are_ unmarried, after all.”

They giggled together, then, threading her arm through Georgiana’s, Caroline led them in a promenade around the edges of the foyer. It was less of a crush there, and they could enjoy the fragrance of the roses and lilies placed in pleasing arrangements in the niches.

Though they had seen each other only this morning at Lady Tippett’s At Home, during the intervening hours the young women had garnered plenty to discuss. From the most recent entry in White’s betting book to the latest in the on-going scandal of a certain titled lady and her footman, they picked through it all.

Walking so closely with their heads together, they knew they presented an appealing image, and there were plenty of gentlemen on hand to appreciate the picture they made. Over by the potted fern stood Mr Reed, clad in buckskins and a bottle-green coat. His outfit was quite unsuitable for the theatre, of course, but he was so very handsome, with a smile that could melt the heart of the most disapproving matron, that one could forgive him almost anything.

Anything but the fact that, according to her sources, he was an out and out rake. Caroline nursed a secret _tendre_ for him, but had no intention of pursuing it. She felt the weight of her opera glasses in their satin pouch and, when Mr Reed smiled at her, she knew she would be putting the glasses to good use during the play.

“Major Fortey is throwing longing looks towards you,” Georgiana said, tipping her head discreetly in that gentleman’s direction. “I heard he has ten thousand a year, and if he is not as handsome as Mr Reed, he still cuts a fine figure in his regimentals.”

Embarrassed that her interest in Mr Reed was so obvious, Caroline lifted her fan and studied the major over the top. “I have had enough of military men.”

“Yes, of course. I am sorry.” Georgiana was instantly contrite. “I forgot. That is to say,” her face pinked as she tried to rectify the situation, “I did not _forget_ , not exactly, but Michael has been gone so long that his existence slipped my mind. Oh, you must think me a heartless creature! He was your husband—”

“For all of ten days.” Caroline closed her fan with a snap and, taking pity on her friend, began to smile. “You need not tread lightly with me. There was no great affection between us, although truly I was sad when I received the news of Michael’s death.”

The memory of her wedding seven years ago was but a blur now. She’d been wed straight out of the schoolroom to a man of her father’s choosing, a man fourteen years her senior. Her husband had played the happy bridegroom for little more than a week before returning to his duties, which had taken him to places overseas. Caroline still had no clear idea what caused his death, but it had happened mere days before the victory at Trafalgar. Many good men had died alongside the heroic Lord Nelson. She liked to imagine her husband had passed in such company.

Georgiana traced the band of gold decorating the edge of her fan. “Even so, I am sorry to mention it.” The cloud vanished from her face and her expression brightened. “Now tell me, is it true what I heard from Miss Grainger, that you accepted an invitation from her brother to go driving in the park on Saturday?”

“Mr Grainger is a very amiable man.” Not as handsome as Mr Reed, but a safer, much safer prospect with who to lay her heart. “But is it true what _I_ heard from my cousin Sebastian, that you agreed to a wager to stroll with him the length of St James’?”

“Well...” Georgiana patted the upsweep of her hair, avoiding Caroline’s gaze, “perhaps there may be something—” Her expression changed, a smile curving her lips. “Oh, do look! I’m sure that’s Bella, the sweet girl we met at the Pump Room in Bath a few weeks past. You remember her, don’t you, Caro?”

Narrowing her eyes, for Georgiana clearly wished to avoid answering the question, Caroline cast a glance across the crowd. Standing a little way apart as if awed by her surroundings was a dark-haired young woman in a copper-coloured gown and kidskin gloves. Her chaperone, Lady Fleetwood, took her arm and together they made their way towards the doors to the auditorium, pausing often so Lady Fleetwood could make the introductions for her god-daughter.

“I do remember her, yes,” Caroline said, tapping her fan thoughtfully against her palm. “Lord Worthington seemed most taken with her. Didn’t they dance together twice at the assembly?”

Georgiana nodded. “They did indeed. An unmistakable sign of favour. Lord Worthington barely stands up with anyone.”

“I heard he would be here tonight. How delightful for them to encounter one another again after such an auspicious first meeting!”

“You are a romantic, Caro.” Georgiana indicated that they should walk a little further. “Rumour has it that Bella’s family hasn’t a feather to fly with. Her brother, Edward, is fond of gaming, or so I hear tell. My sources say that he frequents a certain hell in Pickering Place in the company of that odious Mr Bleakley.”

Caroline gave her a speculative look. “These sources wouldn’t happen to be my cousin Sebastian, would they?”

“I couldn’t possibly say.” But Georgiana blushed.

Smiling, Caroline said, “We must assist Bella in any way we can. She and Lord Worthington make a fine pair, do you not think?”

“Absolutely.” Georgiana linked arms with her again as the bell rang to summon the patrons to the auditorium. “Come, my dear. Let us take our seats for the show.”


End file.
